Читать книгу The Shadow - Aimee Thurlo - Страница 12

Shortly after eight the following morning, Emily noticed a patrol car in the distance motoring slowly down the highway.

The deputies had told her last night when they’d come to take Jonas’s and her statements that they’d be increasing Jonas’s presence in the area.

Standing at the sink of the trailer, Emily watched the main house from the small window. Jonas had insisted on sleeping outside. He’d parked his truck in a spot that allowed him to keep watch on her trailer, the construction materials and the main house.

His presence reassured her even more than the added sheriff’s department deputies on patrol. Yet even so, she hadn’t been able to get much sleep last night. Thoughts and worries had chased each other in an endless circle.

The news that her father might have been murdered had turned her world upside down. No matter how she looked at it, her life was now a maze of uncertainty filled with what-ifs.

Emily took two mugs of coffee from the counter and stepped out of the trailer, trying to ignore the cold wind whipping against her. Halfway across the grounds, she glanced at the ten-by-twelve-foot concrete pad that had once been intended as a floor for her mother’s hobby room.

Her mom had vanished the day before it was poured, thirteen years ago, and the structure had never gone beyond that first step. Emily’s dad had always believed that her mom would someday return, so he’d left it there, ready for completion when the time came. But her mom hadn’t come home. Eventually, the police had stopped searching for answers. As the years went by, her dad, too, had come to terms with their loss.

Old doubts filled Emily’s mind as she thought about her mother. As a kid she’d spend many nights wondering if she’d somehow been the reason her mom had left.

Taking a deep breath, she stopped those musings abruptly. Her mother had made her choice. Now new dreams would spring up where the old had been. That useless concrete pad would be replaced by a new foundation. Once the Tamarisk Inn was up and running, Emily would build her own private residence on that spot.

As she reached the main house, she found Jonas by the back door, waiting. He was wearing low-slung jeans and a flannel shirt that fitted his wide shoulders snugly.

“Good morning,” she called, and held up the mugs. “I brought a cup for you, too.”

“Caffeinated?” he asked, sounding decidedly hopeful.

“Nope. Never drink the stuff. It gives me the jitters.”

“Then I guess this’ll have to do,” he answered with a martyred sigh. “Did you eat breakfast already?”

“I had a piece of toast. I don’t generally have breakfast.” Feeling guilty when she realized he was probably hungry, she added, “But my fridge is full. Help yourself to whatever you’d like. I’ve got plenty of eggs, bread and milk.”

“Thanks, but I’ll wait,” he answered, and followed her inside the house.

The interior felt bitterly cold. Standing on a step stool, she lifted off the curtain rod and removed the drapes from one window. The morning light immediately spilled inside. Emily knew a wave of warmth would soon be flowing across the room.

Not realizing Jonas was behind her, she stepped down from the stool, turned around with the curtains still in hand and ran right into his rock-hard chest. Her heart did a crazy somersault and awareness made her tingle all the way to her toes.

“Excuse me,” she muttered as he steadied her.

With a smile hovering around the corners of his mouth, he stepped aside.

Avoiding his gaze, she moved from window to window, taking down the remaining curtains and folding them. She then packed them into cardboard boxes, trying her best to avoid looking at Jonas. He was leaning in the doorway, arms and ankles crossed.

“Was last night the first time you had trouble with intruders?” he asked.

“No,” she said, and explained about the break-in the day of her father’s funeral and the missing maps. “They were of different quadrants here on our land, but not particularly valuable.”

He remembered his briefing. Diné Nééz, his contact, had raised the possibility that Dinétsoh might have gone to Fire Rock Hollow, the historical refuge legendary warriors like Manuelito had once used.

Its location had been lost for nearly a century. Then one day, the attorney had found the turquoise key near some ruins on his property. He’d showed it to Dinétsoh, his friend and associate, and together they’d rediscovered the place.

After that, Dinétsoh, appointed the cave’s new guardian, had kept the key with him, and to honor the past, had stocked the refuge with provisions. At the time of the accident, Dinétsoh and Powell Atkins had been on their way to conclude the sale that would have given the tribe ownership of that parcel of land.

“How will you deal with your father’s papers?” Jonas asked, glancing into what had been Powell Atkins’s office.

“I don’t have time to do much sorting, so I’m placing everything in storage. If there’s anything in there that pertains to the tribe, you’re welcome to it. Dad also had some papers in his safe-deposit box in town. I haven’t looked through those yet, except to get a few documents I needed right away, like his will, tax forms and the mortgage papers.”

“You should go through everything he placed in the bank as soon as possible. You might find some answers there,” Jonas advised, entering the office and glancing around. It was possible that Emily’s father had hidden something others wanted badly enough to kill for.

Emily stood by a window, gazing at the row of stacked lumber and construction materials opposite the house. “I think those men last night were trying to burn me out, beginning with my building materials.”

“Losing all that lumber and sheeting would have cost you thousands of dollars.”

“It would have been a disaster,” she agreed in a whisper. “I honestly don’t know if I could have recovered from a loss like that. My insurance rates would have doubled or tripled, and replacing the materials would have been extremely costly. Everything’s gone up so much lately.”

“You should consider going away for a while and staying someplace safe—at least until we can figure out what you’re up against.” As he glanced at Emily, Jonas saw her back straighten and her chin jut out in defiance. “It was just a suggestion.”

“No one’s going to chase me away,” she declared, facing him squarely. Then she exhaled softly and in a whisper added, “Life’s not taking anything else away from me—not without a fight.”

The last part obviously hadn’t been meant for his ears, but the haunting sense of isolation that had resonated in her words touched him deeply. His thoughts drifted back to an afternoon at an Afghan border village and the few hours that had changed him forever. One moment’s distraction, a suicide bomber, then bodies everywhere.

He’d sworn back then never to lower his guard again. Life was about survival, and to do that, you had to fight to stay in control—of yourself and your situation. That required constant vigilance and a fighting spirit that refused surrender—a spirit like Emily’s.

“Just hang tough, Em. I’ll help you finish what you’ve set out to do.” His words carried the power of authority and utter conviction.

“Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep,” she retorted.

“I get things done. You can count on that.” As she glanced up at him he saw the flicker in her eyes, and recognized the return of hope. “I need to go meet someone, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Take your time. I’ll be fine. It’s broad daylight. What can happen?”

He didn’t answer. Jonas gave her one last look as she sat beneath the open window, placing papers into folders, then packing them into boxes.

Something else about Emily had changed. There was a quiet dignity about her that was new, and it intrigued him. He’d seen much the same look on the faces of fellow Rangers going into battle. He wasn’t sure how that fit yet, but it was that same quiet courage he saw in Emily now.

JONAS DROVE TO A HILLOCK halfway to the highway, where cell phone reception would be stronger, and privacy insured. He had no doubt that last night’s incident would already be known to Diné Nééz. The man had contacts everywhere in the Four Corners and there was little he missed.

He climbed out of his pickup and walked into the bosque, as the wooded area was called, stopping beside a thicket of salt cedars. Before he’d even finished dialing, Jonas felt it—a wave of movement in the air.

He bent at the knees, automatically making himself a smaller target as he turned. Just then he saw Diné Nééz appear from behind an old cottonweed tree scarred by age and the elements.

The middle-aged Navajo nodded to Jonas, and gestured for him to put away the phone. There was no need for it now. “We’ve had someone watching since the report to the police came in last night. The tracks left by the two men ended near the highway, so there’s not much I can offer you on that, but if you run into more trouble than you can handle, call. Backup will be twenty minutes away or less.”

“My priority remains the woman?”

“Yes. We’re handling the search for Dinétsoh. But if you come across something that reveals his whereabouts, pursue the lead.”

“Those men weren’t there just to set fires. I think they were coming for her. She either knows something that she’s not aware of, or is an obstruction to whatever plan they have.”

“It’s also possible that others are searching for Dinétsoh, and last night’s events were just a diversion,” Diné Nééz said.

“Has word gotten out about the bearer bonds?” Jonas asked quickly.

“No. We’ve managed to keep a lid on that, at least for now. But there’s no telling how long that’ll last. One slip is all it takes.” He gathered his thoughts before continuing. “The woman… In your opinion, will she be an asset or a liability to our search?”

Jonas considered his answer carefully. “She’s offered to help, and give me access to her land. But she has secrets, too. I can feel it in my gut.”

“Don’t we all?” the man countered with a shrug. “Is it possible that whatever she’s hiding has something to do with her father’s death?”

“I can’t be certain of anything at this point.” Except for one thing, Jonas added silently. His attraction to her hadn’t diminished. If anything, it had grown even stronger. And that would make him a liability to the mission unless he kept it in check. “I’ll report as soon as I have something.”

“We need to put the case together quickly, but our involvement has to be kept under wraps. The Brotherhood has remained a secret organization since the time of Kit Carson—unseen but felt—and that’s how it must remain. Live up to your code name, Chaha’oh,” he said. It was the Navajo word for shadow. “Use your skills and get it done.”

JONAS RETURNED TO THE house and parked next to it. As he stepped out of the cab, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something wasn’t right. Remaining beside the truck, he waited and listened, trying to pinpoint what was bothering him. This same instinct had kept him alive more times than he cared to count, and taught him to pay attention to subtleties.

He watched the play of light and shadows on the ground, and somewhere in the distance heard the sound of soft humming. As he walked around the house, he saw Emily standing outside the back door, her eyes closed, her face tilted up toward the sky.

For a moment he just gazed at her, absorbing the way her brown hair cascaded around her shoulders as she enjoyed the warmth. The last time he’d seen her look that serene and happy they’d just made love. Safely nestled against him inside his sleeping bag, she’d looked up at him and smiled. That moment in time had been permanently carved into his heart.

Tearing his gaze away, he muttered an oath. Diversions and distractions were an implacable enemy, and danger was close. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he felt it as clearly as the cool breeze that penetrated his open leather jacket.

Darting his eyes around, he joined her quickly. “Let’s go inside,” he said, forcing his voice to remain casual. “Maybe I can help you finish emptying the rooms.”

“You weren’t gone long,” she answered pleasantly.

“I just needed to check in with a few people and see if anything new had turned up on our missing man.”

“And has it?”

He shook his head.

She led him through the kitchen, returning to what had been her father’s office. “I’ve gone through all the files Dad kept here. His maps are missing, as I told you, though the folder was still in the cabinet. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. I also didn’t see anything that pertained specifically to the tribe, so I stopped trying to sort and just stuck everything in those boxes. They’ll go into storage alongside the furniture.”

Hearing a truck engine, she looked out the window and smiled. “Finally! Here are the movers. They’ll load the rest of the big stuff into the truck and haul it over to the rental storage place in town.”

Still uneasy but unable to identify the threat, Jonas walked out with her and remained by her side while the workers loaded the truck. As soon as they drove off, he and Emily returned inside the house.

“I’ve never heard of that moving company,” he said. “I assume you checked them out?”

“Of course. They’re new, but legit, and they gave me a great price. I’ve got to cut corners now. Every dollar counts.”

She hadn’t asked for, nor did she want, his sympathy. She’d simply stated a fact. His admiration for her continued to grow.

He looked around the interior, noting that nothing except portable lanterns and labeled boxes remained.

“Everything else in here will be transferred across the driveway to that railroad-car-size metal storage container,” she said.

“Since the bulk of the work is finally done, how about you and me taking a break? There’s a real nice coffeehouse out on east Main, at the mall. They serve the best pancakes for miles. We can have a quick brunch, then get back to work.”

“Great idea,” she said, walking outside with him.

Jonas studied the area around him carefully. Someone was out there. He could feel him. As it had been when snipers had stalked his unit, his muscles were wound tight, and he was ready—itching, really—for a challenge.

They were several feet from his truck when he saw a flicker of movement to his left, between two stacks of plywood. Jonas urged Emily quickly into his truck and, motioning for her to stay down, made his way toward the intruder, creeping silently in his soft deerskin boots.

The man never heard or saw him coming. As soon as he was within a few yards, Jonas dived for him, but only caught the heel of his shoe. The intruder, dressed in green coveralls and a cap, dropped something as he kicked loose, then took off at breakneck speed, rounding the corner.

Jonas raced across the yard after him, but before he could narrow the distance, he heard a small motor revving up somewhere ahead. Suddenly a dirt bike roared around the side of the house, raising a cloud of dust as it accelerated straight at him.

Two men. He should have expected it. Jonas automatically reached for the holstered Beretta at the small of his back, then changed his mind. He needed a prisoner, not another casualty. There was a better way to unseat this guy, but his timing would have to be perfect.

Jonas crouched slightly, wondering if his baton would do the trick, then decided it was too light. His forearm was the best choice, though the risk of collision and broken bones was greater. He waved the cyclist forward, goading him with a look of defiance.

The rider, his features hidden by a helmet, didn’t waver for a second. He came right at him, engine roaring.

Jonas jumped clear at the last second, throwing out his arm to clothesline the punk. But fate wasn’t on his side. The bike suddenly fishtailed, and the rear wheel whipped around. The rider’s boot caught him in the shin, spinning Jonas out of position. His fist ricocheted off the top of the biker’s helmet as he passed.

The man raced away, fishtailing again about fifty feet farther down the road, then disappearing in the direction of the highway.

His leg throbbing with pain and his fist numb, Jonas tried to locate the man who’d run off on foot. He was out of sight now, and probably making a beeline for his partner on the bike.

Jonas sprinted after the cycle, suspecting the biker would have to stop soon to pick up his cohort. After running another fifty yards, Jonas spotted the bike through the trees, and saw the second man jump behind the driver. As the motorcycle raced off in a cloud of dust, Jonas knew he’d never catch them now, even if he went back for his truck.

Coming to a stop, he opened his cell phone and punched out the number of his contact in the sheriff’s department, Sergeant Charlie Nez. Charlie’s code name was Ha’asídí, Watchman. After identifying himself and giving him the highlights of the incident, Jonas returned the phone to his jacket pocket and jogged back toward the house.

He was picking up the object his first attacker had dropped—a Taser—when he heard running footsteps. Just then Emily came around the eight-foot-high stack of sheeting, a double-barreled shotgun gripped in her hand.

“They’re gone,” he assured her quickly.

“What about you? Are you all right?” she asked. “I called the sheriff’s department and they said they were sending a deputy.”

“I called them, too,” he said, noting that she’d wrapped her fingers around the trigger guard. If it was loaded, and the safety off… “Do you know how to use that?”

She looked down at the weapon, then drew it closer, fortunately moving her grip away from the trigger area. “How hard can it be? Point and shoot.”

He gently took the weapon from her hands and thumbed the safety on. “Nice. Remington over/under. Where did you get it?”

“It belonged to my dad. He used to go duck hunting. I took it to my trailer a few days ago, just for safety’s sake. I don’t really know if it’s loaded or not,” she added. “I’m not sure how to check. The gun was always off-limits to Mom and me.”

Jonas opened the action and checked. “It isn’t loaded,” he answered. “What were you planning to do if it wouldn’t fire?”

“It’s nice and heavy. I’d use it as a club.”

“To protect me?” he asked, doing his best, but not quite succeeding to bite back a smile.

“Of course. Anyone who got whacked on the head with this would be out of it for a while.”

He took a step closer to her, then brushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. Hearing her draw in an unsteady breath, he felt a surge of pure masculine satisfaction.

Emily moved away and cleared her throat. “We’ve had two vandalism attempts here in the past twenty-four hours. What’s going on? The bad guys don’t normally come back to a crime scene, do they?”

“It depends on how serious they are about putting you out of business.”

“But why? An inn brings visitors and more business to the community. This doesn’t make sense. Were the men who came today the same ones who were here last night?”

“Probably. The boot and shoe prints match, and the body types fit, at least with height and build.” He glanced down at the Taser, studying it. “This was meant to incapacitate me, and maybe you, as well, while they did whatever it was they came for.”

“Vandalism wasn’t their only objective today. They want to scare me into leaving,” she said flatly. “Otherwise, they would have waited until I’d left on an errand, and wouldn’t have brought a Taser along.”

“I agree. Like last night, scaring you was one of their objectives. If they’d wanted to kill either one of us, they’d have come better armed.” He paused for several moments, looking for anything on the Taser that might give them a clue. The serial numbers had been removed, and the insulated grip probably meant no fingerprints could be recovered.

“Do you think they’ll try again?” With effort she kept her voice steady.

“Yeah,” Jonas grunted. “That’s why you should reconsider your plans. Since construction hasn’t started yet, why don’t you return what materials you can, take a small loss, then wait them out? Give me time to work. Afterward, when things are settled, you can continue.”

“No, the clock’s ticking too fast—” She abruptly stopped speaking.

“We’re on the same side, Em. Don’t shut me out,” he said, more convinced than ever that she was hiding something. Turning to face her, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ve earned your trust many times over. Talk to me.”

As she looked into his eyes, her thoughts suddenly became muddled and her heart began doing flip-flops. Forcing a steadiness she wouldn’t have thought possible into her voice, she answered him. “I’d like to trust you completely, Jonas. I really would. But here’s the thing. I never thought I’d see you again. Then, out of nowhere, here you are.”

She paused, pushing her hands deep inside her jacket pockets so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and touch him. “Though you’ve saved my life twice, something tells me there’s more to your return into my life than you’ve said. Until I know enough to fill in all those blanks, there’s no room for total trust.”

“No one can ever fill in all the blanks of another person’s life. Things just don’t work that way.” He leaned against the house, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans. “You need to make some decisions, and here’s something you should consider. Your father spent a lifetime working for the tribe. He trusted us. Can you afford to do anything less?”

“Life’s been…different to me. It’s taught me to be cautious.”

Jonas couldn’t fault her for that. In that one way, they were alike.

“But you’re right. Once these people realize I won’t run away, they’re going to come after me with everything they’ve got.”

“No one’s going to hurt you, Em.” He brushed her cheek with the palm of his hand and felt the gentle tremor that traveled through her. “I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.”